


from dusk to dawn and back again

by thrice



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrice/pseuds/thrice
Summary: Phil says, “Good,” and quickly walks up to his room, returning a few seconds later with his coat. He swishes it around with a grin. It’s forced, but there’s sincerity behind it that makes Dan curious in why he’d even bother.





	from dusk to dawn and back again

The thing is, Dan's tired; and he's ill with feeling. But to stop right now, with all of this; hands like steering wheels and skin like silken velvet— he just couldn't. They've done this so many times to each other, Phil's done this to him. He likes it most when there’s practical desperateness radiating from within Phil’s blue irises. Something like, _just for tonight._

He's gotten used to it all, the push and pull. The desperate need for to need someone to drive him home with a burst of energy and a quick safe heaven, just a few minutes to close his eyes and disappear into a world where slammed doors at three a.m don't exist. For him.

For the _both_ of them. A collective act it will be.

**

“Wait!” Phil asks. “Where are you going? We’re supposed to film a video soon and-”

“Out.” Dan responds coldly.

Phil frowns at this, watching Dan gather up clothes, disappearing into the bathroom and not closing the door. Grooming his bone straight hair with a comb, pouring over his distraught reflection.

He isn’t really making things easy, Phil thinks. Is he.

Phil balls his fists for a few seconds, and then unfurls them; sighing deeply. Both of their Starbucks drinks laid clinked close together, with their names scrawled on the front; finished off with a smiley face. He’s suddenly transported to a time where they were both palming Starbucks drinks, but it was then where their own faces matched the ones on the surface of the drink.

A whole lot happier. Even if their smiles were wobbly; nervous.

**

They’d return to bed later that night. Phil would tell him to do what he tells him to do, get on your front and stay still for me. He does. He’ll take care of him for the moment, let this be his apology for months of tension, even if it’s tension being slowly solved. Slowly isn’t enough. But this will be taken slow at first, rushing faster later. There’s a hand grasping a bottle of lube up on the nightstand, and it’s being open and a finger is dipped in.

There’s a finger being dipped in his entrance, making careful circles. Dan stifles a helpless moan, knees wanting to buckle themselves in. Phil watches him move for a bit, watches him melt under his touch.

**

When Dan goes to his ghost-town of a room for the night, he immediately ravages his nightstand and finally comes up with the token item he’d been looking for.

A sheet of a sloppily placed together piano piece, the same one he wanted to play for Phil on their second anniversary but was too nervous and insecure to. He bursts into heavy tears; the kind that makes your shoulders shake and your throat tight with regret.

**

“Good morning,” Phil says to a sleepy Dan.

Dan would much rather look at a floating mess of corn starch and sugar than look at _him,_ so he doesn’t.

“Good morning.” Phil repeats.

“Good morning.” Dan says. He scoops up a spoonful of Lucky Charms.

“Did the rain stop-”

“It did.” Dan informs. “It’s sunny now.”

Phil says, “Good,” and quickly walks up to his room, returning a few seconds later with his coat. He swishes it around with a grin. It’s forced, but there’s sincerity behind it that makes Dan curious in why he’d even bother.

“Wanna go for a walk? To just, uh, talk, and stuff.” Phil offers.

The coat keeps swinging back and forth. Dan stares at it.

“You want to go for a walk,” Dan says, narrowing his eyes.

Phil steps back a bit. “W-well, I just think-”

“Maybe later. It’s too early.” He responds, and journeys over to the bathroom, locking the door.

It’s _12:00 p.m._

**

There’s a sharp knock at his bedroom door that startles him, making him drop his I-phone.

 _Should he answer it_ is the one question that lingers around his head. “Dan,” Phil says in that voice that used to make him immediately run to his arms.

Not anymore, though.

“Dan, can we please talk?” Phil’s practically banging on the door, jesus.

“If I walk with you,” Dan starts, “Will you stop?”

Phil stops, so Dan agrees; walking over to grab his coat.

Maybe a stroll with him in the autumn scenery will be a calming change from the quiescence at home. They'll both hope for that.

**

One of these days, things will get better. It always will, that’s what his mother told him, and his father and brother who suddenly seemed to care a great deal. That’s what everybody you will get to know will end up saying when you’re close enough to tell them these things.

You just have to keep trying and trying, they say.

The air _will_ feel lighter again. Dan knows this well, he’s memorized these words and can repeat them with full clarity.

Soon, he thinks.

A part of him knows that soon is much too far away. Now he wants to let his head fall on Phil’s shoulder, watch the waves crash in his eyes. He dreams on grasping his hand under the table, of stealing a kiss from each other late in the night, early in the morning.

No, it wasn’t all about the scrutiny, the overanalyzation. A teenage girl over the moon about a simple gaze is a shred of the matter. It was the fear of losing grip on something he’d vowed to never let go of for as long as he shall live, the fear of dropping a love he’d concocted up in his fantasies turned into something more wonderful.

He has made so many fucking mistakes.

Take me back, Dan cries. Wants to cry.

 _Soon_ must come soon. Fast forward to a time of peace and joy and talks of the future. But for now, he’ll lay under Phil’s knowing hands, powerless under his caress.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first (horrible) at fwb, so send me ur thoughts at 96loveclub.tumblr.com


End file.
